Part 3: The Empty –

Hooves pounded behind as I jumped off the Cliff of Heaven, finally free from Heimdall’s Seven. Air became solid under my feet, for I ran as only Sky Maidens can[1].

I looked back to my steed following in my escape. But sky ran out and solid air failed as I sped across the border of the Aesir world. Blue sky changed to fog and I lost my footing, only to start slowly spinning out of control. Still I could see Hoof-Tosser behind as I spun; feel him in my head and heart. But when he too crossed the boundary from blue to gray, it all went wrong.

He screamed and struggled as I saw his shape shrink and fold, the ancient curse taking hold once more. Our mind-link was painfully ripped from my chest, and without it he returned to the form in which I first found him: a wide flat drum without voice to speak words, deprived of limbs to direct his motion.

“No! You are free! Hoof-Tosser return to me,” I commanded, knowing full well he had no way to comply.

I extended my arms as far as I could, to catch the rim and re-kindle our link, but he was too far away.

The drum merely tumbled, as did I, deeper into the thickening mist. (more…)

Part 2: Heimdall’s Seven

My steed and I left no traces in the snow as we departed. Mary Arden’s dead body lay behind me; Asgard and my friends just a short ride away through the skies. My duty was clear, yet I stopped, my face hardening in anger. “It’s not fair.” I could see the bridge out of the city only a few streets away.

Hoof-Tosser stopped and let his head droop as he glanced back. “There’s nothing to be done about it Gná. Humans die, children lose their parents, we cannot save them all. They go to their afterlife no matter what.”

“Mary Arden won’t go to the afterlife, nor will her children be reunited with her when they die, will they ?” He didn’t answer. “Will they !” I pressed.

“No need to shout,” his voice said in my head, “I hear you perfectly. And no, they won’t.” (more…)

Part 1: Thirty and Three

I stood across the street, pulling my silvery fur coat tighter against the chilly snowfall. Frost formed at the moist corners of my eyes, making me blink. No wind, or barely any; just cold snow crunching under my boots as I shifted to the other foot.

A six year old boy, whose brown hair matched my braid, peeked over the street level window sill. Eyes wide he looked out, breath forming frost on the glass. The year was 1570.

“I must go.” I whispered as I glanced at the row of white capped roofs.

“Mary!” he wailed, as he wrestled with frozen hinges to open the window wider. “Are you there?” He was scanning the street to the left.

I stepped to the right, stopped, and looked back, wishing he wouldn’t wake the household. I’d expressed my love to the boy, along with my thinly veiled goodbyes, as I put him to bed last night. (more…)